He's My Son
by Marie Kenobi
Summary: Obi Wan’s father hopes to make up for what he has done to his youngest son, even if the solution to the problem is not what he had hoped for.


Title: The Kenobi Family Album: He's My Son 

Author: Marie Kenobi

Rating: G

Summary: Songfic Obi-Wan's father hopes to make up for what he has done to his youngest son, even if the solution to the problem is not what he had hoped for.

Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own Star Wars or it's wonderful characters, therefore I get nothing green out of this labor of love. Any names or things you don't recognize belong to me; everything else is Jedi Master George Lucas'. The song and title "He's My Son" belong to Mark Schultz, so I can't claim any money for that either.

Author's Note: This is a story of mine that I wrote about a year or two ago and forgot to post! It was originally intended to be the first in a series, but I never went any further with it. Any of the typos and format problems are LOL

Please R & R!

Enjoy!

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* * *

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"He won't survive another month. Pneumonia is setting in and he's already very weak. There's no way his body will be able to fight it."

"Is there treatment?"

The medic looked down at the child, just barely five months old, and felt deep regret fill his heart. "We could treat him…for 830 daktaries."

Blue-green eyes belonging to the worried father jerked upward to the medic's worn face from where they had been admiring the silky strands of ginger hair atop his son's head. "Dení, you know I can't pay you right now. Besides, Republic daktariesare a rich man's money, not a lowly farmer's. Listen," he shifted his son to his other arm, "the harvest is just a few months away and we've got good crops this year. Treat my son now and I promise you'll get your money—plus more—when I get it!"

Dení's face softened ever so slightly. "I'm sorry, Mic. I know the Daltons and Kenobis have always done business together, but Julen's medical bills already equal three-fourths of what you'll get from your crops this year—and that's only if the drought doesn't get them again."

The medic reached forward and stroked the abundant wisps of hair already gracing the child's small head. He felt like scum and he knew he would feel even worse when he told his long time friend, Mic Kenobi, what he felt would be the best thing to do with the sick baby.

"Now, I want you to hear me through before you say anything. Chances are Mic, that even if you had the money to spend, this little one wouldn't make it. Even if he did, his growth would most likely be stunted and he may have trouble processing things. His motor skills may also be bad. He would be more of a burden than help to you, and Julen already needs constant care. You need children who will be able to work in the fields with you—be a farmer, Mic, not a nuisance. Owen is healthy and growing up to be big and strong. Let this one go."

Mic Kenobi's brow furrowed, half in anger, half in confusion. How could Dení say that? When his son had been younger, Mic had often left him alone in conditions not suitable for young babies. Therefore, the man saw his son's current health as his fault and vowed to see the child through to adulthood, even if he had to suffer along the way. Selfishness moved him in his endeavor to right the wrongs he had placed upon his son more than anything else did.

With a curt nod, Mic walked towards the door. "Thank you, Medic Dalton. But Julen and I cannot simply let him go."

Dení frowned slightly. "You're a stubborn man, Kenobi." His voice softened with a hopeless sigh. "We can only hope little Ben is the same way. Send my regards to the Mrs."

* * *

_I'm down on my knees again tonight I'm hoping this prayer will turn out right_

_See there is a boy that needs Your help_

_I've done all that I can do myself_

_His mother is tired_

_I'm sure You can understand_

_Each night as he sleeps_

_She goes in to hold his hand_

_And she tries not to cry_

_As the tears fill up her eyes

* * *

_

Julen Kenobi softly closed the door to her oldest son's room after putting him to bed. Owen was big for a two-year-old and very healthy. The young woman smiled, then frowned just as quickly as she remembered her declining health. If only she could be like Owen. If only _Ben_ could be like Owen. Sadness etched her pale features as she walked into the bedroom shared by her and her husband. Despite the late hour, Mic was still laboring in the vast fields around their small, wooden home.

In one corner of the dark room, a miniature glow rod affixed to the wall lit a tiny, homemade crib, built by Mic's own hands. Inside lay Julen's youngest son, Ben. With thick, beautiful light brown hair cascading across her shoulders and framing her thin face, she leaned over the crib and took one tiny, plump hand into one of her own petite ones. Tears sprung to her eyes as she remembered her childhood. A rare, incurable disease, passed onto her by her mother, caused her body to slowly degenerate. Although she was only 22, all of the medics she had talked to diagnosed that she would live to be no older than 35—40 if she was lucky. Because of her disease, she had never been able to play like other children, and as she recalled what Mic had told her earlier after his visit with Dení, she feared that Ben's childhood would be just as bleak.

Biting back a sob, she sank to the ground, one hand still clutched to her son's, who never stirred in his sleep, even as the light of the stars danced across his beautiful face.

* * *

_Can You hear me?_

_Am I getting through tonight?_

_Can You see him?_

_Can You make him feel all right?_

_If You can hear me_

_Let me take his place somehow_

_See, he's not just anyone_

_He's my son

* * *

_

"I've decided to sell half of the farm."

Julen jerked towards her husband, dropping the torn shirt she had been mending. _"What?"_

"I said I've decided to sell half of the farm," Mic repeated.

"Stars, Mic! We don't need to go from poor to poorer. We _need _this year's crop—_all of it._ Besides, this farm has been in your family for generations."

Mic pulled his dusty boots off before setting them by the door and walking over to his wife. Placing one arm over her shoulders, he leaned in and kissed her temple. "It's been a week since Dení saw him. He said he won't last another month if he doesn't get help."

The man pushed to his feet and began to pace. "I'll sell part of the farm and we'll use the money to pay for his treatment and some of what we owe Dení and the other medics you've been to."

"What about Auby?" Julen asked, standing as quickly as her tired body would allow.

Something dark flitted across Mic's weather beaten face at the mention of his older brother's name. "I'm not desperate enough for _his _help."

"But Auby loves Ben—

"Yeah? Well so do I! Ben is _my son_, Julen; I don't care about what happened in the past. I'm going to make up for it, I promise. We're together again and I'm not going to put my child's life in the hands of just anyone."

* * *

_Sometimes late at night I watch him sleep_

_I dream of the boy he'd like to be_

_I try to be strong and see him through_

_But God who he needs right now is You_

_Let him grow old_

_Live life without this fear_

_What would I be_

_Living without him here_

_He's so tired and he's scared_

_Let him know that You're there

* * *

_

Julen lay quietly in the bed she shared with her husband, staring at the spot where she knew her son slept.

_He sleeps a lot_, she thought absently. _He hardly ever cries to let me know he's even hungry. Owen always cried, but no, not Ben. It's almost as though he doesn't want others to know he's in pain…_

Unable to sleep through the night because of her own illness, the young woman rolled onto her side and stared out the window in the wall near her. Ever since she had been a little girl, she had always felt as though the stars beckoned to her and shined their brightest when she looked at them.

And perhaps they did. She was, after all, slightly Force sensitive, although not nearly enough to have been chosen for training by the Jedi. Ben, on the other hand, practically glowed with the mystical power. It was obvious to even her limited knowledge and control of the Force.

Julen wanted her children to live better lives than those of farmers. It seemed Owen was content with his circumstances, or at least would remain to be until he learned of the greater gifts the galaxy had to offer, and Ben—Ben was just special. When the young mother looked to the stars, she almost felt as though she could see him up there, traveling from planet to planet and promoting peace and justice.

Yes, Julen wanted Ben to become a Jedi with all her heart and would do anything, including sacrifice herself, to see that dream for her child through to completion. She wanted him to live a life unconcerned with the petty things, and if anyone could heal him, she knew it was the Jedi healers. Although only two weeks had passed since Dení's diagnosis, the infant was clearly becoming weary from unknowingly battling death, and Julen, despite a lack of training, could easily sense his life force dimming. The young woman didn't know how she could continue if she was forced to watch one of her children disappear into nothingness. But if she watched him disappear into the billowing cloak of a Jedi Knight, she would gladly let him go.

Closing her eyes in hope sleep would come, Julen said a prayer and made a wish upon the stars.

* * *

_Can You hear me?_

_Am I getting through tonight?_

_Can You see him?_

_Can You make him feel all right?_

_If You can hear me_

_Let me take his place somehow_

_See, he's not just anyone_

_He's my son_

* * *

At the sight of a large ship coming towards his small home, young Owen left his mother's side, abandoning his homemade toy speeder, and scampered as quickly as he could towards it. Julen dropped the article of clothing she was hanging up to dry and quickly hurried after her curious son, scooping him up just as the ship touched down, sending sprays of dusty veils everywhere. The concerned mother was out of breath as she watched the entry ramp of the Republic ship lower. Her illness left her weak and unable to do such simple things without easily tiring.

From the interior of the ship, two figures appeared. One, feminine, wore an earth-colored tunic with a cloak and tall boots. She was humanoid in appearance and her skin was tanned. Two marks graced her face—one on her forehead, the other between her eyes.

The other figure was smaller with green skin and long, pointed ears. He wore similar clothes and carried a cane. Hanging from the belt of each figure was a lightsaber.

Smiling now in relief and happiness, Julen ushered the two Jedi into her home, while off in the distance, Mic turned from his work, saw the ship, and ran frantically through the large fields towards them.

* * *

Once inside the picturesque cabin, Julen brought drinks to the Jedi, who then introduced themselves as Jedi Knight Depa Billaba and Master Yoda. The small, green master clasped one, three-fingered hand onto the young woman's arm as she offered him his drink. Yoda's pointed ears lowered slightly as he read the woman's Force signature.

"Sad, you are, and ill. But hopeful you are too, hmm? Help you, you think we can?"

Julen dropped to her knees before the diminutive master, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. "My youngest is very ill. Our medic says that he will die within the next week if we cannot help him. I—I thought that maybe…you…the Jedi…"

Yoda sat quietly for a moment as the woman paused to take in large, lung-filling breaths, then motioned to Depa. Both stood as if to leave and Julen felt a tear flow gracefully along her cheek.

"Please," she tried, but was silenced as Depa unexpectedly moved towards her bedroom, reappearing a moment later with Ben in her arms. The baby's eyes were open, revealing their brilliant blue-green depths as he cooed softly and reached up to play with Depa's braided hair.

Julen gasped. She had never seen Ben do that before.

"Strong, he is in the Force."

Julen looked back to the small master, hope shining in her eyes. "Then you'll take him? Train him to be the great Jedi I know he is destined to be?"

Yoda's voice quieted. "Sick, he is as well." There was silence as the Jedi Master seemed to become locked in an internal debate before he turned back to the young mother. "But help him, we can. Heard your plea for help, I did. Your ally, the Force is."

The tears began to flow freely from Julen's eyes and she nodded rapidly, leaning forward to place a small kiss on her youngest son's head. "Take him," she choked. "Take him before his father comes. Mic would never let him go; he's too caught up in his own selfish motivations to realize he's hurting Ben, he doesn't believe in the Force! Take him! Please!"

Sinking slowly to the ground, Julen felt Owen crawl into her lap and bury his face in her silky hair. The soft pattering of shoeless feet that she heard came to a sudden stop before her, and she felt the gentle touch of Yoda's hand on her head. An unexpected warming of the small Force sense that resided within her grew until she became calm and lay down, drifting into sleep, but not before hearing the soft spoken words of her two guests.

"May the Force be with you…"

* * *

Yoda ascended the boarding ramp of their ship with Depa by his side, the woman smiling down at the child she still held in her arms.

"I have a feeling this one has a big future ahead of him," she said, placing the boy into a crib near the cockpit. She would get the ship into hyperspace before returning to fully assess his condition.

"Yes," was all Yoda could find to say in reply as the ship lifted into the air and Mic Kenobi emerged from the fields, running into his home and half-expecting the worse.

* * *

_Can You hear me?_

* * *

Mace Windu strode purposely through the halls of the Jedi Temple, a massive group of structures situated in the very heart of the Republic. Only one thing was on his mind as he headed to the crèche.

Unexpectedly, from a door on his right, his long time friend Qui-Gon Jinn appeared, his tunic slightly sweaty from an obvious workout. Mace immediately latched onto his fellow Jedi Master and proceeded to pull his friend along behind him.

Qui-Gon's brow shot up, a look of bewilderment breaching his usually stoic mask. "Mace, what in the galaxy is going on?"

"A new baby was brought in yesterday."

"Children are brought in all the time, Mace. What's the big deal with this one?"

"Let me show you," the Jedi Councilor replied as the entryway to the crèche appeared.

* * *

_Can You see him?_

* * *

"He's beautiful…"

Mace found himself nodding in agreement. "He'll drive the ladies wild someday. If we hadn't gotten him when we did, however, he may never have gotten the chance."

"What do you mean?" Qui-Gon asked, confused by his friend's riddle. He reached into the crib the child rested in and smiled as his large index finger was snatched into one tiny, plump hand before being shoved into a mouth that was as equally small.

"He was very sick. His parents couldn't afford to have him treated. The family's medic gave him only one more week to live."

Qui-Gon bent over and picked the child up. Immediately he felt something run through him, ultimately stopping at his heart and exuding a sense of peace and calm. Looking down, he saw the child smile before nestling against his chest and falling into sleep.

"He likes you," Mace whispered softly. "You're the first person he's smiled for."

Qui-Gon stroked the ginger-topped head. "What's his name?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," the dark-skinned Jedi replied.

"Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan Kenobi," Qui-Gon repeated, sighing softly as he did so and speaking the name as though it was a breath of fresh air. Something Mace hadn't heard in awhile echoed in his friend's voice. "He's going to be something special, isn't he?"

"Yoda named him."

Surprised, Qui-Gon looked up into the brown eyes of his friend. Yoda rarely named the children that arrived at the Temple. The crèche masters usually did the honors, so for the little green troll to have done so, there must have been something special in this one's future that the Jedi Master had picked up on.

"What does it mean?" he asked finally.

"Star light."

* * *

_Please don't leave him…_

* * *

Suddenly, the voice of Qui-Gon's apprentice wafted into the room. "Master! There you are! I've been looking all over for you. Come with me to our quarters; I want to show you something."

"Xani," the master chided softly, lost in the blue-green eyes that had opened at the sound of the yelling. "Where are your manners?"

The dark-haired boy scowled softly and gave a curt bow. "Good afternoon, Master Windu. Now will you come, Master?" Xanatos whined impatiently, doing his best to portray an image of absolute innocence.

But Qui-Gon was completely oblivious to the annoyed look of his friend and the impatience of his young Padawan learner. His entire being was focused on the small, wriggling bundle of joy encompassed almost lovingly in his massive embrace. "Go back to your room and meditate, Xani," he murmured absent-mindedly. "I'm going to spend sometime here with Obi-Wan. From what I understand, he's had a hard life so far..."

Mace felt a grin tug at the corners of his mouth as he steered the apprentice from the room. "I'm leaving Qui. Try not to rub your bad habits off on Obi-Wan there; Force knows the last thing we need around here is another you. Don't forget the midday meal is in a few minutes."

Qui-Gon's midnight blue eyes never left the precious face of the child he was seemingly transfixed by, even as the door slid shut behind his friend and apprentice…and the crèche masters attended the surrounding children…and the sun dipped lower in the sky…and the day turned to night…

And when a slightly worried crèche master approached the tall Jedi and attempted to pull man and child apart, Qui-Gon finally pulled away from the blue-green eyes that continued to stare so brightly up at him—despite the late hour—and looked the master in the eye. His voice was barely audible as he turned back to the baby and smiled, bouncing him lightly in his arms to the happy sounds of childish giggles.

"Please, I want to hold him…just a little longer…"

Beyond the paristeel windows, a blanket of stars actually pierced through Coruscant's smoky atmosphere and came to rest over the mighty Jedi Temple, bathing two content figures in their mighty glow.

* * *

_He's my son…

* * *

_

"_I would be honored to accept you as my Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi."_

"_I accept, Master, Qui-Gon Jinn."

* * *

_

End


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